


The Abdicator's Son

by Ellisama



Category: Farseer Trilogy - Robin Hobb, Tawny Man Trilogy - Robin Hobb
Genre: Alive!Chivalry, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-19 11:00:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3607638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellisama/pseuds/Ellisama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Chivalry Farseer could have met his son, and one time he didn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Night at the Outpost

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic is very much a tribute to Chivalry, whom I am dying of curiosity to know more about. First and foremost, I imagine how he and Fitz could have met. Those various possibilities make up the Abdicator's Son. Crossposted on Tumblr. Enjoy.

My time at the outpost I recall like a hound’s dream. As clear as the memory of my arrival stands in my mind, as obscure are the details of the days that followed immediately after. I recall Burrich, a constant amidst changing men and animals. The blustery wind on my face as I walked back and forth between the stables and the kitchens. And a visit, in the middle of the night, that would change the course of history forever.

I recall being roused from my sleep by the sound of a swearing man, and the jovial laughter that followed immediately after. In the light of a yellow flame I could see two men bent over me, and Burrich right behind them. Nosy snuggled closer against me, possibly sensing my discomfort.

"Stop your laughter, Verity. You’ve awoken him." A man I hadn’t seen at the keep before said sternly.

"I’m sorry Chiv, you’re right." Prince Verity said more soberly, a ghost of a smile remaining on his face. "But of all things to find in these mountains, I’d never expected to find your bastard."

The other man sighed loudly and kneeled in front of me. “He has my eyes as well. Damn it.” He cursed as he brushed my unruly hair back. I’d never before given any consideration what I’d looked like, but in the dim light of the lantern I could see a young man, darker skinned than myself but with hair as thin and black as mine.

I met his dark eyes with curiosity, but he averted his after a second. Instead he turned to his brother. “Verity, Burrich. He may be my bastard, but he’s not a beast and shouldn’t be sleeping among them. Was there no other place where you could’ve put him?”

Burrich, who had thus far seemed to me like a mountain that could never be conquered, suddenly looked rebuked. Verity seemed surprised, if anything. “What do I know of children Chiv? I’m a soldier, not a father. Me and Burrich, we did what we’d felt was right at the moment.” And true to his word, Verity seemed to be dressed as his soldiers save for the brightly stitched emblem on his chest. Next to his better dressed brother he seemed less of a prince. “Besides, we didn’t want the word to spread too far.” Verity added.

"To Patience, you mean."

"That is correct." Burrich answered from where he was standing stiffly behind the two men.

"It is too late for that." He said, and then he said nothing else. I remember that I’d never seen such a troubled face on a man his age before. I raised my hand to smoothen them out, and for a moment I touched the man that I would later come to understand to be my father’s face. His eyes widened and for a second I was privy to his deepest thoughts and emotions. As if burned, I recoiled my hand immediately.

Burrich stepped forward at my soft cry, but his eyes were on the troubled prince. “How is she coping?” He asked with a directness I’d later identify him with.

"I haven’t spoken to her. But Father skilled me last night that she has left for her father’s estate." Chivalry’s tone was even, but his eyes spoke of unspeakable sorrow. "With her sudden departure and the rumors of royal bastard already festering at court, it will not be long before all of the Six Dutchies knows of my mistake."

A look passed between Burrich and Verity. “What did father say?”

"He pretended to be angry." Chivalry smiled a wry smile, and stood up. "But the skill doesn’t conceal one’s true emotion and I could feel he was relieved. He never agreed with my marriage. When I told him what I intended to do, Father warned me ‘not to do what I couldn’t undo once I’d done it’, and send me to you. Like I’d have the boy killed." He scoffed that last part, but his words send a tremor of fear through the room. The dogs awoke and started barking, Nosy the loudest of them all. Burrich stood stiff besides the two princes, a frown on his face as well.

"Then, what were you going to do?" The uneasy question came from Verity.

Chivalry put his hands upon his brother’s shoulder and looked him straight into the eye. “Abdicate.”

"You can’t." The younger prince’s eyes grew wide with dismay, and at the time I couldn’t understand what such a difficult word could possibly mean in order to have such an impact at the normally ruddy young man. "You can’t do that to me, Chiv. I’m begging you!" His cheeks were flushed with desperation and his eyes were wide with fear.

"How can I one day rule over this kingdom and ask the people to behave with a good conscience if my own is not clean?" My father said gravely, an Verity looked even more troubled than before.

"I don’t think all will see it that way." Burrich protested. "Some men in the guard rooms even talk about the pup like he’s a good thing. They see you more like— more like a—"

"Like a man." Chivalry finished before he could. "Because I fathered a child before my marriage. Yes Burrich, I know well of how they speak of me. Or him for that matter."

The yellow lamplight lay a shadow over Burrich’s features. “I meant no disrespect, sir.”

"And I’ve already forgiven you, Burrich." The prince said sincerely. "Where would I be without your honest words at the end of the day? Maybe if you’d been there, years ago, this boy would not be here in the first place."

"Chivalry…"

The prince sighed again, and kindly turned to the stable master. “Do tell me what more they speak of in the guard room, Burrich.”

Burrich seemed to hesitate, but only for a second. “They laugh. Mostly after they’ve had some wine in them. And they say that you’re human after all. Some of ‘em look relieved, even.”

"But will the dukes of Bearns and Farrow also think the same?" Chivalry replied with the voice of a diplomat.

"With all due respect sir, but a negative opinion has never stopped you from pushing your goals before either. They’ll come around if you make them, I reckon." Burrich replied evenly, meeting his master’s eyes.

For a split second, a smile rested on the prince’s face as he regarded his stable master. Then, his visage turned stern and he seemed years older. “Regardless of what I have done in the past, Father has ordered that he’d be brought to Buckkeep. I intended to precede you to do what I must, but Father has forbidden it. Instead, I will travel back to Buckkeep with you.” He gestured at me while he spoke these words.

"And then?" Verity’s voice betrayed a deep fear.

Chivalry looked at me one last time and gently put the blanket in a way that it covered all of my small body. For a moment he was my father, caring and kind. And then it was gone as swiftly as it had appeared, and the frown took its place. “Only Eda and El know what happens next.”

After that, I remember nothing of that night.


	2. Withywoods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This AU starts at the last page of the first chapter of Assassin's Apprentice.

Time passed after I’d overheard Regal and Verity speak that night, maybe a week or three, until I found myself on the back of Burrich’s horse clinging to him with all my might as we began an endless journey into warmer lands. At first we travelled with the princes and their entourage, and Nosy and I slept amidst the dogs and the horses every night. But as the scenery began to change, so did our destination. I vaguely remember seeing Burrich and prince Verity converse the evening before, the frown on Burrich’s features but the hidden joy in them as well. Later it would all make sense to me. Before the sun rose the next morning, Burrich hoisted me up his horse and together we rode towards a place that would become my home. A place called Withywoods.

The manor was not a prison for an abdicated King-in-Waiting, but a grand comfortable house in a beautiful valley filled with orchards and flowers in bloom. It would have been a wonderful place to grow up for any child, I’m sure of it. But it would never become such a place for me. It may not have been a prison, but my father and his wife had without doubt been exiled to it, and my stepmother would treat it like the prison it was until the end of her days in the manor. My father locked himself into his study more often than not, quietly. Even before my arrival I had turned a happy couple into two estranged beings. It was not a great start, to say the least.

We arrived one morning and were greeted by a few servants, who refused to meet my eyes but had no qualms to stare at my back when I was turned around. I remember their gazes burning into my skin, and the feeling of discomfort it brought. No longer did I have Nosy to comfort and protect me, and I felt the loss of my one companion as deep as a knife plunged into my gut, then twisted several times. There was but one servant who dared to look at me, and she ushered me away from Burrich with a firm hand. I cried his name, and snarled at the woman to let me go, but Burrich said nothing and just met my eyes with a quiet sadness. He would be gone by the next morning, punished for a offense he hadn’t given. I wouldn’t see him again for a very long time.

The woman’s name was Lacey, I was told as she bathed me. She had firm hands for a servant, and without effort manhandled me into a clean set of fine clothing that almost fit me perfectly. Then, she looked at me for a long time in a way that made me feel uncomfortable. “Without a doubt Chivalry’s” Lacey muttered a few times, and proceeded to tame my unruly hair.

Then, she led me upstairs to a room in the back of the manor that was reserved for guests. “It’s yours, boy.” She said kindly, and let go of me. I remember sitting down next to the large hearth and feeling very lonely and small in comparison to the grayness of the guestroom. I never learned to called it mine.

Lacey took pity on me. “It’s only for a while, dear.” She said in a comforting tone, and winked. “You’ll get a nicer room soon. With lots of toys.”

I looked up to her from my place on the floor. “And Nosy?”

"Who is Nosy?"

"A dog." Then, I paused and corrected myself. "My friend."

A sad yet amused look appeared on her features. “One of Burrich’s?”

I nodded.

Lacey paused as if skirting a delicate subject. “I’m sorry.” She said eventually. Then, she smiled. “I will get you a new one then. Whichever one you like.”

"I want Nosy!" I demanded childishly, but Lacey shook her head, wistfully.

"We can’t all get what we want, my dear. If only we could." I sensed her impatience as she made the bed and dusted the furniture. She smiled at me, but seemed uneasy. I was both relieved and disappointed to see her go.

I lacked very little during my time in Withywoods. I was fed and clothed, and once the novelty of my arrival had worn off, I was allowed to play in the kitchen gardens. I spend much of my early days memorizing the twists and turns of the servant halls that were located on the floor below the guestrooms and running in the way of the kitchen servants working in the garden. The servants complained about me, as was a fashion to do so in Withywoods at the time, but never with malice behind their word. On some days, when the lord and the lady of the house were out, I was allowed to visit the stables and play with the animals. Those were the days I lived for.

But what I remember most vividly from my childhood at Withywoods was a keen sense of loneliness. The children of the servants were either too old, too busy or too afraid to play with me. Lacey was a kind, warm woman who read to me at some dark nights, but never stayed for long. And my father and his wife, well they were a different story altogether.

It didn’t take me long to figure out that I was being avoided by the lord and lady of the house. Although neither Lacey nor Lady Patience ever told me so, I know for certain that I was for long regarded as a temporary unwanted guest. I had been send to her home against her wishes, and Patience refused to acknowledge me as part of her household as a retribution. Maybe she did it to spite her husband, who had not only sired a bastard but had also insisted on raising him at Withywoods. The drunk kitchen maid tales describe how she was brought into the manor screaming and fighting until she could no longer stand. After awhile, her anger turned silent, and she used other tactics to show her displeasure. Banishing Burrich, Chivalry’s greatest confidant from their house and pretending I didn’t exist were just a few of them. My father diplomatically kept his silence. One night I dared to ask Lacey, who tried to spare me at least a few minutes of her time every night, why neither of them wanted to see me. The smile from her face fell as she told me they were just busy, but even as a child I saw through her lie. It was a very lonely time indeed.

I remember the first time I met my stepmother. The servants had always told me to stay as far away as possible from her, and in my mind she was akin to a witch from Lacey’s stories, cruel and old. None of the kitchenmaids would ever say such a thing, but late at night I could hear the whispers about Mad Patience from the servant halls. The woman I met that night in the kitchens was none of these things, and as such, I did not recognize her as my stepmother.

She had been quietly eating a pastry, but jumped up at the sight of me, a hand on her breast as if I had scared her to death. I imagine I was barely seven years old at the time, and too much of a child to scare anyone. Yet this woman, small and fragile, looked at me like I was the Pocked Man himself.

"I’m sorry." I muttered softly at her. "I didn’t mean to scare you."

The lady said nothing in return, only closed her eyes briefly as if to calm herself, and sat back down at the table.

If it weren’t for my growth spurt and the aching hunger that came with it I would have left the kitchen that very instant. But my growling stomach demanded food, and I knew where the kitchen maids kept the best pastries. With practiced ease I climbed on top of the counter and opened the cabinet to find my prize. For a second I hesitated to take one of the sweet pastries, because of the lady’s eyes following my every movement. But my hunger won from my anxiety, so I took one anyway and swiftly jumped of the counter, fully intent on leaving the dark kitchen as quickly as possible.

Then, the lady spoke. “Do they not feed you well?” 

"I’m just hungry at night." I said while I took a bite from my pastry. It couldn’t have been a pretty sight.  "Lacey says it is because I’m growing like weed."

"Like weed, did she say now?" She muttered to herself, her eyes narrowed.

I nodded while chewing on my prize “She did.” And I was very proud of the fact, too.  

The woman looked at me strangely and lit a few more candles. It was then that I realized she was wearing some fine jewelry, and was therefore not a servant. “I suppose she’s right.” The lady said after some careful consideration.

"I think so, my lady." I repeated self-consciously with the manners Lacey had tried to teach me.

Her food lay ignored as she busied herself with silently watching me eat, sitting stiffly at the kitchen table. I felt as uneasy as she looked. I could think of nothing to break the silence, but her gaze made my hands clumsy. She frowned when I dropped a piece of my pastry on the ground, and looked appalled when I picked it up and ate it anyway. I ate it as quickly as I could, and excused myself from the kitchen without much grace.

“Wait!” The lady called after me, but when I looked around, she had nothing to say. When I tried to leave a second time she didn’t stop me, but a stretched hand in my direction told me she would have wanted to.

After that, everything changed again. Lacey came to me the next morning with the brightest smile on her face I had seen of yet, and announced that Lady Patience was very disappointed that I hadn’t shown more manners last night. I didn’t dare to ask if that was a bad thing.

Instead I asked her how the lady had known since I’d never even met her. Quickly I was rid of my naivety, and for the rest of the day I tried to reconcile the image of the staring lady with the witch that she was in my mind. That evening I was called to the library for the first time. The library at Withywoods may at some point in time have been a place of order and learning, but when I first set foot in the room, piles of books were in every other corner, and many of the shelves were filled with plants. A collection of feathers and clothing, dirt and twigs and some needlepoint work cluttered at every available spot. And amidst of all this chaos was a woman, dirtying her hands with earth while she put a growing seedling in a larger pot.

"Oh, you’re here!" Lady Patience said with a kind, melodic voice, and only then I realized she spoke to Lacey and not to me. When her eyes settled on me her wide smile froze, her brows knit over her brown eyes. "And you’ve brought the boy."

Lacey nodded and pushed me towards Patience.

"He looks like a pig." She looked pointedly at my clothing, dirtied from playing in the garden all day. "Those old shirts of Chivalry hardly fit him at all. Lacey, take him to the seamstress tomorrow and see to it that he is at least dressed to fit his bloodline."

In the corner of the Library, Lacey smiled brightly and nodded dutifully at her Lady. I didn’t dare to move yet.

"Do you read? And write?" She asked me, and I stared at the ground self-consciously, shaking my head. "Of course not. Lacey, I want you to send a letter to Buckkeep’s scribe tomorrow to arrive here at Withywoods at his earliest convenience."

"Of course, my Lady."

"And stand straight when I talk to you boy!" She commanded me. "You look like a sheep waiting for slaughter."

I raised my eyes to meet hers, and saw a woman in distress with two small dogs at her feet. I immediately reached out towards them, and they raced to be the first in my arms. Their little barks and jips of joy brought tears to my eyes, and despite Patience’s wishes I kneeled down to pet the little terriers.

"Hey, you don’t have to cry." Patience’s voice had lost much of its enthusiasm. Gone was the image of the mad woman, and a girl with doubts and insecurities remained. "They’re not going to bite you."

I looked up at her in confusion, and smiled bright enough to make her stagger back. “Of course not.”

"Of course." She uttered softly, and she looked for a second like she’d seen a ghost. She kept quiet after that while I played with the dogs, and after a while I forgot where I was and who was there in the room as only children can do. When they were tired, I laid down in between them next to the fireplace. Patience protested, but Lacey put a gentle hand on her arm and told my stepmother to take ‘baby steps’.

I slept besides that fireplace that night, snuggled between two dogs and covered by a blanket of Patience’s making. And so began a tentive relationship with the woman who I would learn to call mother.

I never slept in my old room again. In simple words, Lacey had explained to me that Lady Patience was known to change her mind quite sudden sometimes and  to be even more persistent to see her will be done once she’d done so. As a testament to her words, I was brought to a blue room on the second floor the next evening. The room was slightly larger than my previous room had been, and altogether better furnished. There were a few toys in the corner of the room, and I could smell the scent of dogs on my sheets. It seemed I had finally been accepted as a member of the household.

Every morning I was brought to Lady Patience’s library, where she would try to teach me whatever came to her mind. Ironically, she didn’t have the patience to wait for a young child to figure something out, and it resulted in frustration on both our sides. The dogs would wag their tails impatiently at us, urging me to go outside and play, and I longed to wrestle with them in gardens. When the scribe, Fedwren arrived at Withywoods in the summer of that year, I was surprised how quickly I learned under his careful tutelage.

But the more I learned how to read and write, the better Lady Patience and I got along. There was an insurmountable distance between the two of us, and it would not be bridged for many years, but despite our differences of character I think of those mornings as my fondest time in Withywoods. She didn’t dare to touch me, nor name me, but she taught me about plants, animals, the seasons and stories about all of them and more. I listened to her melodic voice as she sang songs to me, urging me to repeat after her. This I did well, and every smile on her face became a personal achievement.

But not all was well. She disapproved of the fact that I helped the servants out in the kitchens, stables and the forge whenever Fedwren was away. However, some of her stubbornness had rubbed off on me and we’d reached a stalemate on the matter. She didn’t understand my bond with animals, and yelled at me every time I came back from the gardens dirty and full of scratches.  We never spoke about my father, the elusive shadow that I had hardly ever seen and never spoken to. While no longer in line of succession, his father and brother still had use for him and he was more often traveling through the duchies than at home. When he was, I never met Patience outside of the sanctuary of our library.

That was, until King Shrewd and King-in-Waiting Verity visited the manor one late summer day. Their arrival had been announced a few days before, claiming that they had come to hunt in the lush forests that surrounded Withywoods. In reality, game was rather poor around the manor, a well known fact. Yet when they arrived, they arrived in full hunting apparel and nobody uttered a word. The Queen and her son were in the inland duchies for the summer months and had send their regrets at not being able to join, and again not a single servant said anything that suggested otherwise.

My stepmother ushered me early out of bed that morning, and demanded that I try on a dozen of different shirts before she settled on the first one I had worn. It was a Buckblue shirt, finely embroidered and of superior craftsmanship. I was eleven, and I had learned to wisely keep my thoughts to myself when she was in a mood like these. She spend the rest of the day correcting my manners, telling me to walk more straight or less stiffly. Then, when the evening came and I could hear my father and two similar voices echo through the halls, I expected to be confined to my rooms as I normally was when important guests arrived. Instead Patience, dressed in the finest gown I’d ever seen her wear, took my hand and led me to the dining hall. I’d never even visited the place before, and yet suddenly I was thrust into a world I had been carefully banned from before. A man, my father was seated at the head of the table, the King and King-in-Waiting at his right and left side respectively. They were talking informally in hushed tones, and their looks told me that they had not expected us to enter.

"Patience!" Chivalry exclaimed surprised. My stepmother merely nodded at him and proceeded to greet her father- and brother-in-law.  

"You look as beautiful as ever." Verity told her fondly, but Shrewd and Chivalry had their eyes on me. Our hands were still firmly linked, and I felt as anxious as I had felt when I had first met patience in the kitchen all those years ago. “Chivalry told us you didn’t feel well and weren’t joining us for dinner!”

"Thank you Verity, but my health has improved greatly." She said and returned his charming smile.

"And Fitz! How you’ve grown since I’ve last seen you!" He said as he tousled my hair, and I tried to smile as politely as Patience had taught me, missing teeth and all. "He looks just like you Chiv!" he exclaimed to his brother, who merely nodded politely. It seemed the tension felt by the rest of the room at his words went completely unnoticed by him. Instead, he smiled a bright smile at his brother’s wife, and sat back next to his brother. Patience seated me next to him, and sat down next to King Shrewd himself, directly opposing me.

That was the first time I truly had time to set my eyes on my father. Verity was right, we did share similar features. My skin was slightly lighter and my hair slightly thinner, but I could see my nose and my eyes on his face. He talked as politely and charmingly as the servants had told me before, and he seemed as knowledgeable of state affairs as Fedwren had boasted. I had none of his grace with words or gestures, but I’ve been told I am remarkably observant from time to time. The conversation remained light, but even as a young child I could sense that the reasons for this royal visit was not to hunt.

Patience and I shared some small talk that calmed my nerves and curiosity enough to eat the food that was put in front of me, but I could feel my father’s eyes burning on the two of us. I had always assumed and condoned of the relationship between my stepmother and I, and was quietly surprised by his knitted brow. Patience pretended not to notice, but I knew that for a woman who claimed to hate intrigue, she enjoyed her little play quite thoroughly.

I learned many things that night, besides the face of my father and his relatives. I learned of Buckkeep, of the weapon mistress named Hod and her apprentice, of the Fool that had insisted to join the hunt, and of the queen’s failing health.

It was also then that I learned that it had never been Chivarly’s will to bring me to Withywoods. King Shrewd never said in so many words, but during dinner he suddenly turned to me.

“How you’ve grown indeed, FitzChivalry.” It took me a moment to realize that the King was talking to me. Other than Fedwren, nobody ever called me by my name, especially not in Patience’s presence. In the corner of my eyes I saw her composure falter for the slightest of seconds. Then, the king turned to my father. “You have been wise to accept my decision all these years ago. You has truly done a much finer job at raising him than Burrich could have done at Buckkeep.”

“Thank you father, but all the credit of raising FitzChivalry goes to my wife.” He said pleasantly, but the subtle tightening of my father’s jaw told me enough of what had happened that night, and I felt my heart sink into my shoes at what this meant.

The knowledge shouldn’t have dealt such a hard blow to me, since before tonight I had never even heard him say my name. But it did, and it hurt as keenly as the loss of Nosy had, all those years ago. Deep inside I had maybe always held on to the belief that while Chivalry never came to see me, he did at least somehow wanted me to be there. As a child I entertained many fantasies why he couldn’t visit me. Now, all those childhood imaginations turned to dust. A dark feeling of anger and worthlessness rose in my stomach, and I frowned deeply. I was about to open my mouth until I heard my father’s voice.  _‘come to my study tonight.’_ I looked up to see my father staring at me intently, but his lips didn’t move. None other at the table seemed to notice anything of the exchange, and dumbfounded, all I could do was nod. He smiled, surprisingly softly, and then turned back to the conversation with his father and brother. More confused than ever, I didn’t hear a single word of what was said for the rest of the dinner.

When the dinner ended, my father surprised all residents of the manor by gently kissing my stepmother on the brow, and telling her to go to bed without him. It was a well known fact that Patience and Chivalry hadn’t shared a bed since my arrival, and yet this tenderness between them seemed so natural. But my grandfather and uncle did not know this, and for their sakes Chivalry put on a show. But the gentleness of their soft embrace was not fake, and for a second I thought I saw tears in her eyes. She nodded mutely, and lingered in his grasp. The anger and confusion that had been piling up in my stomach quickly turned to a biting guilt. This is what I had destroyed by coming here. It seemed I had not been the only one who had been very lonely at the golden cage of Withywoods.

When Patience left, she intended to take me with her, but instead Chivalry took my hand and with a single gentle smile led me away from my mother. The rest of the Farseers following closely behind him. She did not protest, and neither did I, but up till this day I don’t know if she considered it a victory or a loss that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this fic is done, I will continue this. But the Abdicator’s Son is about the many ways Chivalry could have met Fitz, and I already overindulged myself with my love for Lacey and Patience. As for Chivalry’s absence: there are reasons, other than the fact that he is a second Chade to the kingdom.


	3. The Road to Buckkeep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chivalry survived the assassination attempt, but not without consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to crosspost this! This one starts at the end of "Chivalry's Shadow" in Assassin's Apprentice. (The moment when Verity tells Fitz his father is dead.)

The pure feeling of euphoria I felt in my stomach due to meeting Molly after all this time had yet to settle down by the time I hurried back up the steepest part of the road back to Buckkeep. The basket for Fedwren was heavy in my hands, and if it hadn't been for my long days and nights working in the stables and as an assassin's apprentice, I doubt I would have been able to make the climb up to the castle after the sun had set. I was pulled from my self-pity as I heard the unexpected sound of horses coming up from behind me. They came from the dock-section of the town, and they were riding faster than Burrich would have liked them to be on such a steep road. I stepped off the road to avoid being trampled, curious who would provoke Burrich's wrath like this.

Even in the dark of the evening, I could distinguish prince Verity as he approached me. With him were two others, heavily cloaked. A woman and a man, the latter whom seemed to sit his horse quite awfully. My assassin's training urged me to take in all of their details as they drove straight past me, staring at me quite strangely. Many years later I still wonder how I was able to remember the color of their eyes and the set of their noses perfectly, yet had not been able to realize that those features belonged to my father and his wife. Strange, how the mind of a child works.

Nevertheless, when I reached the stables of Buckkeep, I was surprised to note Burrich's absence. Verity's horses were exhausted and famished, yet no stable hand was providing for them. As I watered and stabled them properly, I wondered where he could be. Again, I did not connect the dots.

That night I awaited Chade impatiently, but eventually fell asleep after the day's hard work. I was dreaming pleasantly of Molly by the time I was awoken by the familiar drought. Within seconds I was dressed and climbing up the stairs that led to Chade's domain. Upon entering I immediately took in the state of disarray of the room. Chade was in a frenzy. Scrolls and herbs were littered everywhere and he was pacing amidst the mess in a great haste.

"There you are, finally!" He exclaimed when I entered. I noticed that while his face was set in a solemn frown, there was an excited twinkle in his eyes that made him seem years younger. "Here, hold these herbs, and try to make yourself look slightly more decent. We're going to the King's chambers!"

I looked at him curiously while I dusted off my shirt. My leggings were getting too short again. "What's going on?" I dared to ask. "Has it something to do with the two people who came into Buckkeep with prince Verity last night?"

He stopped in his tracks and looked at me with a hint of pride in his smile. "You are a credit to me, my boy." And I felt my heart soar at his words. "And yes, you're right. But hurry up and carry these for me, will you? We are on a tight schedule."

And so I followed him into his maze of tunnels, all equally narrow and dusty. It didn't matter that I wasn't dressed well enough to see the king: by the end of this journey we would both look like we had just cleaned a chimney. At the end of the tunnel was a door, and Chade knocked twice before entering in what I assumed to be the King’s Bedroom. The small door opened and Chade preceded me out of the narrow passages. I followed him into a sober room, certainly not fit for a King. A quick glance out of the window betrayed that we were in a room high in one of the towers. Apparently the King’s Chambers were not his personal ones

The chamber was well-lid for the time of the night, and my Wit sense informed me of the unlikely gathering of people even before my eyes could adjust. I bowed to the King, and felt all eyes rest on me the moment I set a foot into the room..

Prince Verity was there, as were the King and the Fool. A woman I hadn’t seen before sat in next to Burrich, who was aiding the man I recognized as the one who had ridden his horse so badly on the way to Buckkeep this evening. One look at the man’s fingernails and lips told me even from across the room that his days were most likely numbered. His complexion was pale, and Burrich’s furrowed brow told all I couldn’t make out myself.

Chade paid no pleasantries to the royals inside the room and immediately took his place next to Burrich.

“How are you feeling now, my boy?” He said kindly to the man, who smiled painfully back at Chade.

“Like I fell off a horse.” His voice held little mirth, and was hoarse. I silently wondered how he had survived the travel to Buckkeep.

Burrich’s frown deepened, and he placed a cold rag on top of the man’s head, who finally opened his eyes to look back at Burrich fondly. “Thank you old friend.” Burrich just nodded. It was then that my mind finally made the connection. I’m sure I looked like a Fool as I stared unblinkingly at the man who had fathered me, yet had never contacted me in the many years I had spend at the castle. I cannot recall exactly what I felt at the moment, only that it was too much for a boy of my age. Too much pain, too much anger, and too much hope. In the corner of my eye I could see the Fool watching, curiously.

“Boy.” Chade called in that tone that Fedwren used to indicate that he meant me. I jumped as if I was being physically attacked. “Grind the mandrake, cayenne and the garlic together until it is fine enough to mix with this wine.” He ordered without looking to me, and I was glad to do his bidding. The dosages for the antidote I recalled without effort, but grinding the pestle in the mortar allowed me to sneak a look at the man who was my father.

My glances weren’t as covert as I thought they were, although that could have been due to the fact that all eyes on the room were focused on me, save for Burrich’s. His were reserved for my father, alone.

Had I spared Chade a glance, I would have noticed the telltale look in his eyes that forebode a plot. “It was a compound poison, I presume.” He said to me as if we were alone up in his secret chambers. “And at least of the ingredients was thresher’s root, although the amount was not enough to do the deed.”

Without thinking, I fell into step. “That would explain the languidness of his expression.” Then I paused, and tried to recall the other symptoms of thresher’s root overdosing. “Although the heavy breathing indicates that maybe a part of the compound poison was not ingested, or at least not correctly. Which would explain why he survived it.” I said matter-of-factly. Burrich stared at me with strange eyes, but here and now Chade was my master, and I had only eyes for him.

He in turn rewarded me with one of his smiles that meant that he was pleased with my answer. “As were my thoughts exactly.“ Chade conceded to me in particular before he turned to Chivalry. “Which is why we need to cleanse whatever is still in your body as soon possible.”

My father, however, seemed to have turned even wider during the course of my conversation. With Burrich’s reluctant help he managed to sit up straight in the bed, and stared straight at the King. “Tell me you did not give him to Chade.” He said with a voice chiller than the winds of winter.

King Shrewd didn’t meet his son’s eyes. “I gave you a choice. You gave him to me.”

“To keep him safe!” Chivalry bellowed with all the strength he could muster “Not to use him! Never to turn him into… into _this_!” He coughed and to my horror, blood dripped down from his lips on to the white sheets. The stains would never wash out.

I wondered what this was, and why it was such a bad thing. The King approached his son until the coughing stopped, putting a careful hand on his shoulder. “Chivalry, this is not a conversation for this hour, nor this place. Once you have recovered, and once we are in private, we will discuss the matter.” His tone was kind yet stern, and for the first time I noted the resemblance between the old king and the master assassin.

“No.” Chivalry demanded with a hoarse voice. “If you have already taken this as far as my eyes tell me now, then we will not talk about this later. There might be no later, and I demand that you will stop this now, before it’s too late.”

“Don’t say that.” The woman that I now assumed was his wife urged him with little gentleness. The desperation in her eyes was fierce, as was her devotion. “You will be fine, I know it.” But her trembling hands gave away what her unwavering voice did not.

“Of course, my love.” Chivalry said softly to his wife, and then coughed up some more blood. “But that does not mean I will not right one of my many wrongs as soon as I can.”

“Sir,” Burrich asked with a mixture of pained hunger and respect in his voice. “If I may be so forward. What wrong? Have I not raised him as you asked me to?” I think there was an uncharacteristic hint of uncertainty in his voice that I would have missed if I had not been trained to spot it.

“Not you, Burrich.” Chivalry said, dismissing the man’s fears with a few simple words. “But surely you must have realized something wasn’t right?” I saw a glint of the famed diplomat at that moment, weakened and barely alive, but alive all the same.

Burrich looked at me for a second. Then, his tone turned grim. “Yes.” I knew he meant the wit, and I avoided his look. “I might have.”

“These are not words to be spoken in front of those who do not know their weight.” Chade said, and I felt like I needed to agree with him. Nobody seemed interested in my opinion on the matter of my training. Chade took the grinded antidote from my hands and added it to a fine glass of a foul smelling wine. Chivalry spared me a single, unenthusiastic look, before he drowned the whole thing in one go. It must have tasted horribly.

“I’m dying.” Chivalry retorted with a sudden bluntness that made all present in the room falter for a second. “If I do not talk plainly about it now, my protests shall go into the grave with me.”

“Don’t speak such nonsense!” Patience all but cried out, and she flung herself at her husband. I had to avert her eyes. No one confirmed nor denied her words and for a moment the only sound that could be heard were the winds that swept outside of the castle. The first rays of a new days were already chasing away the night sky.

“What is going on here!” Burrich eventually bellowed harshly, his voice echoing through the plain room.

“I’m sorry my old friend, but I’m not sure you or Patience ever met Chade. He is my uncle. He is also the King’s assassin.” He whispered hoarsely. His eyes lingered on me for a moment, and on the herbs in my hands. I’m sure he could see all the scars, and I felt naked under his gaze. “And it seems he has taken a new apprentice.”

Suddenly all eyes were on me again, and I straightened my back in an effort to shoulder it. Burrich’s questioning gaze was the worst. “Is it true?” He demanded to know of me. After Chade signaled his approval, I nodded as well.

Burrich’s eyes widened and his fists clenched, and I knew what was happening a second before it did. Chade might have been nimble for his age, yet he was not quick enough to avoid Burrich’s fist connecting with his stomach. He emitted a soft cry on the impact, and staggered back a few steps, clutching his stomach. But the fire in Burrich’s eyes had not been extinguished yet. The old man barely dodged the second blow and the third as well, before the King interfered. “That’s quite enough, stable master.”

Burrich panted with controlled fury. “With all due respect my liege, but how could you allow your own blood to become something like that?”

The King positioned himself in-between the two men, and answered sagely: “Guard a man, and he will be safe for a day and a night. Teach a man how to guard himself and he will be safe for all of his days. Teach a man how to break a guard and he will survive the nights as well.”

“He is a boy!” Burrich exclaimed, and I felt oddly rebuked as well. Then, the man seemed to realize who he was talking to.“My King”

“Yes, for now. But for how much longer?” Shrewd nodded. “And you know as well as I do that a royal bastard could never be a plain foot soldier.”

“Enough Burrich.” Chivalry demanded weakly, but it all that was needed to calm Burrich down. “You have fought already too many of my battles. Allow me to win this one on my own terms.”

The stable master collected his breath and nodded. “I overstepped my position. Forgive me, my lord.”

“You are already forgiven, always.” Chivalry said kindly, a tired look etched into his face. “Father, I request your permission to allow me to stay here at Buckkeep after my recovery.”

A troubled look settled on King Shrewd’s face, but the Fool smiled deviously at me. “Is that wise?”

“Even if you will not acknowledge that we all know who did this to me, that does not mean I will not throw her failure into her face with every smile I can muster until the rest of my days.”

“It will sow dissent at court.” Chade lectured my father before the King could. “Verity’s succession will be in question.”

For the first time, I heard Verity speak. “If I may speak my mind.” His tone concealed none of his joy. “I would not mind Chiv’s companionship and advise at court, at all. As a matter of fact, I think it could be a good turn.”

Nobody asked for my opinion when I spoke up anyway. “I don’t mind learning from Chade.” I said with the loudest voice I could come up with. The Fool’s smile turned possibly even more gleeful.

For the first time, my father addressed me personally. “You don’t know what you are talking about.”

“But I do.” I challenged him. “I like the riddles, the tricks and the experiments.” And most of all, I liked Chade, who always wanted me to succeed where others hoped I would fail, and who never spoke to me as if I were a liability.  

“And yet, you don’t. Someday you will be glad for my interference, before your hands are stained with blood.” Chivalry scolded me, and I dared not to retort to him once more.

“I never knew you thought so low of me, Chivalry.” Chade interceded with harsh words that surprised me.

But Chivalry was a negotiator at heart. “Not you, Chade. You know I always loved you, and had wished a better, cleaner life for you.” He said in charming tones despite his condition. His voice was wearing thin, and he looked even closer to death’s door then earlier this night, despite his words of recovery “You could pick anyone, but him. I thought you knew me that well.”

“I do not pick, I am provided for.” The old assassin sneered back “I serve the crown, I don’t decide upon its actions.” An old anger surfaced in his words, and I lost track of the conversation.

They continued to bicker until Chivalry started coughing up blood again. I sat forgotten in the corner of the room, next to my father’s wife. She and the Fool were the only ones who spared me a look now and then. I realized I was a chess piece on the board right now, and wondered what this night would mean for me.

If the Fool’s silently approving grin was anything to go by, then it surely would not be dull.


End file.
